


I Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer

by BentWingedSnitch



Series: What Started Out As Friendship [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: 01x04, Deepthroating, Hand Jobs, M/M, That tub scene, Very little build up, lotta sexy times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:54:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BentWingedSnitch/pseuds/BentWingedSnitch
Summary: His voice is so ridiculously confident. “Because then there would be no one around to sing of your conquests.”“My conquests?” Geralt questions as Jaskier’s hands comb out the soot and blood, roughly but not with any intended hurt.“The Sylvan, the manticore, the shtriga… the women,” Jaskier’s nails scrape against his scalp. Geralt feels a gush of breath rush across the side of his face, “Is it just women though, Geralt of Rivia?”
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: What Started Out As Friendship [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621738
Comments: 60
Kudos: 4183
Collections: Best Geralt, Bruss, Interesting Character and/or Interesting Relationship Development





	I Can't Fight This Feeling Any Longer

**Author's Note:**

> A small one-shot that I couldn't resist, mainly because that bath scene just screamed of fanfic potential. Hopefully, characters aren't too OOC, my first fic on this site! Also sorry about the title, but I couldn't resist! Well, without further ado, enjoy!

Geralt could not stop looking at his lips. So delicate and pale. 

Those lips that sang about his feats, he thought about how good they would look around his cock.

Jaskier moved about the room, and Geralt caught the appraising looks the younger man kept sending towards the water. He shifted his arms, not to cover himself, but just to give them a brief flex on the edges of the tub.

Geralt had just given a speech about how he doesn’t want to be needed, but then Jaskier had to go and say, “And yet… here we are,” as if it were the simplest thing in the world. Those lips uttering such simple words that dug into Geralt’s bones. 

The bard disappeared from view and suddenly there were thin fingers running through his hair, scratching at his scalp. If he were braver, he would have let it go on, but instead, he slaps the hands away.

“I can do it myself,” he growls, but Jaskier doesn’t seem to be put off, the bard just chuckles.

“You know, you weren’t so afraid of my hands earlier,” Geralt catches his smile as he dunks his gut-stained hair back in the water. “What, so your hair is off-limits, but your arse is fair play?”

The water falls in rivulets from his hair down his chest and back, Geralt can feel Jaskier tracing them with his eyes, following their path into the water. “You know I could make sure you never sing, let alone speak again, right?”

Jaskier’s hands sink into his hair again, far less gentle and with strength yet unprecedented in the bard. “Would you really though?” His voice is so ridiculously confident. “Because then there would be no one around to sing of your conquests.”

“My conquests?” Geralt questions as Jaskier’s hands comb out the soot and blood, roughly but not with any intended hurt.

“The Sylvan, the manticore, the shtriga… the women,” Jaskier’s nails scrape against his scalp. Geralt feels a gush of breath rush across the side of his face, “Is it just women though, Geralt of Rivia?”

The Witcher stiffened under the bard’s fingers. “What are you trying to say?” 

Jaskier’s finger curls around a strand of Geralt’s hair and he tugs at it playfully, “I think it’s quite obvious what I’m trying to say.” Geralt’s fists clench as Jaskier nips at the shell of his ear.

“Jaskier…” The bard abandons Geralt’s hair in order to scratch down the Witcher’s chest, Geralt’s cock twitches as Jaskier’s nail grazes one of his nipples.

“Shhh. We both know that you could slit me open before I even have time to blink.”

Jaskier comes over to the side of the tub, and for the first time since he started touching Geralt, their eyes met. The bard’s eyes searching as he teasingly makes shapes in the water with the tips of his fingers.

“Geralt. I know you could kill me for saying this,” Jaskier looks up in thought, “No, I know you would. But I just rubbed chamomile on your bottom, and it’s given me some ideas.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything, he just appraises the bard as the other man’s eyes fall back to his.

“I know I may come across as a notorious seducer of the ladies,” Jaskier says, and Geralt raises his eyebrows. Ignoring the Witcher, Jaskier carries on, “but to be completely honest, there have been a fair amount of men sprinkled in there as well. Not that I’m going bore you with all of my experiences, but what I’m trying to say is-”

Geralt lets out a massive sigh.

Jaskier becomes offended instantly, “Excuse you! I’m trying to share something here, something that isn’t necessarily easy for me-”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Geralt growls before dragging Jaskier down by his shirt to crush his lips to his. 

He forces the other man’s lips open with his own, fucking Jaskier’s mouth with his tongue, the bard moans almost helplessly. Jaskier’s previous confidence seeming to falter as he scrabbles for something to do with his hands.

Geralt bites down on Jaskier’s lower lip and pulls, before letting go. 

They are both breathing heavily, Jaskier’s eyes dilated and his breath coming out in gasps. 

“Well fuck me,” Jaskier whines and Geralt groans at the image of bending the bard over a table and really making him sing.

The bard leans back in and bites down on Geralt’s neck before sucking and licking at the spot, moving up to Geralt’s jaw then to his earlobe, taking the soft flesh between his teeth. 

Geralt takes his hand that’s been clamped on Jaskier’s shirt and digs his fingers into the other man’s hair, retaliation for the bard’s earlier assault of his tresses. 

Jaskier’s hand moves quickly, not quick enough that Geralt’s heightened senses shouldn’t have seen it coming, but to be fair he was rather distracted. Jaskier’s hand plunges beneath the water and grips Geralt’s cock firmly.

“Shit,” Geralt tightens his grip on the bard’s hair as his head falls back to the tub’s rim. The bard jacks him slowly but steadily, his semi-erect state hardening to the point of almost pain. Jaskier’s thumb pushes across the head, the drag across his slit making Geralt grunt.

“To think,” Jaskier huffs, his face pulling away to stare into the Witcher’s amber eyes with awe and amusement, “I am quite literally jacking off the White Wolf.”

Geralt huffs raggedly before pulling the bard back down for an incredibly filthy kiss. Jaskier speeds up the pace, tugging at Geralt’s cock harder and faster and Geralt moans into the other man’s mouth.

The water is splashing so loudly it’s almost obscene, and Jaskier’s tunic is almost completely soaked with the musky water. The unexpected nature of it all might make this end far too quickly, so Geralt reaches down into the water to squeeze the base of his cock.

“That close eh?” Jaskier breathes across his lips, sounding far too proud. Jaskier lessens his efforts back to a leisurely pace.

Geralt grabs the bard’s wrist and tears his hand away but keeps the hand in his vice-like grip. 

Jaskier’s eyes suddenly turn fearful, “Sorry! Look I’m sure you have excellent stamina-”

The bard's words are cut off by Geralt standing up out of the water, dragging Jaskier up by his wrist. He catches the other man glancing down at him and he can’t resist a small amount of pride as the bard’s eyes widen.

Geralt steps out of the tub, a bit awkward as he does so still holding onto Jaskier’s wrist, but now he stands before Jaskier, dripping and without a stitch of clothing. Not that being naked ever really make Geralt feel uncomfortable, he knew that he had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. 

The Witcher pushes Jaskier back, the younger man’s eyes still alight with confusion and trepidation, which Geralt must admit is fairly amusing, but then he is pushing Jaskier against the nearest wall.

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it, maybe it’s the fact that he hadn’t been with another man in quite some time and missed the luxury of it, the feeling of it, but nevertheless he revels in the look of shock on Jaskier’s face when the Witcher drops to his knees in front of him.

“Holy fuck,” is all Jaskier manages to say, and Geralt cannot help but smirk a bit before cupping Jaskier through his trousers. The bard’s head slams against the wall loud enough that Geralt knows it hurt, but he’s too busy assessing the other man. 

While Jaskier isn’t necessarily big, his cock is of average size, not impossible, but still will prove to be a bit of a challenge for Geralt to fit it down his throat. 

Sure, deepthroating wasn’t necessarily a pleasant activity, but it bothered Geralt far less than it seemed to bother others, possibly due to the mutant factor, to be honest, he never felt the need to think too hard on it, especially when it happened so rarely. With a new sense of determination, a part of Geralt desperately wants to find out what other noises he can pull out of this mouthy bard.

Undoing the ties of his trousers, Geralt gets his first glimpse of Jaskier’s cock, and it’s even better than he imagined. It’s a reasonable length but surprisingly thick, Geralt’s mouth waters as he takes in the state of it, so hard and red, a bead of precome forming at the tip. 

Now would be the time to look up, to make sure this is okay before going ahead, but Geralt is impatient at this point and he really doesn’t think Jaskier will object. He grips Jaskier’s cock at the base and licks the bead of precome right from the tip. Jaskier whines and squirms above him at the sensation. 

Geralt now looks up at Jaskier to find the bard already breathing heavily and looking at him in awe. Geralt holds his gaze as he closes his mouth around the head, sucking lightly. Jaskier bits his lip to stifle another moan, but that is not what Geralt wants, so the Witcher takes more of the other man in his mouth.

Jaskier’s moan seems to rip out of him and pleased with this, Geralt pulls back off his cock, hollowing his cheeks and giving a hard suck as he drags his lips and tongue back towards the head.

“Oh, fucking hell,” Jaskier whimpers, leading Geralt to repeat the motion a few more times, each time trying to take Jaskier’s cock deeper and deeper. 

It occurs to him what a sight he must be, a large man, stark-naked, kneeling to suck a smaller man’s cock, but he really doesn’t give a shit, because the moans that he is wringing out the bard is a better song than any minstrel could ever write. 

Finally, having worked himself up enough, Geralt slowly moves the cock further and further into his mouth until it begins to dip into his throat. He looks up again to meet Jaskier’s eyes, just as the other man realizes what he’s about to do.

“Please,” Jaskier whines, his hips giving a slight thrust into Geralt’s mouth, but instead of choking or steadying Jaskier’s hips, Geralt just groans. “Fuck!” Jaskier gasps out at the vibrations that run through his cock, and Geralt finally forces the bard’s cock fully into his throat.

The fit is tight, and Geralt feels like he’s choking, but he cannot remember the last time he had felt so full.

Jaskier meanwhile is unable to string a single word together, only capable of babbling sobs as Geralt swallows around him, his throat contracting around Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier desperately begins tugging at Geralt’s hair, Geralt thinks at first that it is an attempt to warn him that he’s done for, but then Jaskier is gripping tightly and moving his hips in minute little thrusts. He meets Geralt’s eyes again desperately, and Geralt only darkens his eyes in response, causing Jaskier to shudder. Taking this as an affirmation, Jaskier begins to shallowly fuck into Geralt’s throat.

“Geralt,” Jaskier whimpers, his hips snapping a bit faster, and Geralt must grip Jaskier’s waist to try and keep himself from gagging. But then Jaskier repeats it again, “Geralt. Geralt. Geralt.” Almost a chant and Geralt cannot remember the last time he’s been so hard from giving head. Reaching one of his hands down, he begins to stroke himself lightly, worried he might bite down if he gets too aggressive with it.

This time when Jaskier tugs at his hair, Geralt knows that Jaskier is coming to the end, but Geralt doesn’t pull away. Jaskier thrusts once, twice, three more times before he throws his head back with a reedy moan, his eyes squinting and his nose scrunching as he pumps his seed down the Witcher’s throat with a few jerky thrusts.

Geralt swallows almost effortlessly, and tentatively pulls off, licking up the rest of the mess as he goes. As the softening cock falls from his lips he looks up to see Jaskier watching him with a look of utter wonder.

“I am going to write you,” he gasps for breath, “the best fucking song.”

The Witcher glares at him, but Jaskier doesn’t seem capable of doing anything but grin goofily back.

Geralt pushes himself to his feet, and Jaskier is still smiling dazedly.

“I’ve gotta say Geralt, I don’t think I’ve ever come so-” Geralt crushes his lips to Jaskier’s and the bard licks into his mouth, searching for the remnants of himself. He knows Jaskier can feel how hard he is, and he resists the urge to hump Jaskier’s thigh like some animal just to get some friction.

Geralt grabs Jaskier’s wrist and brings his hand down to his cock. Jaskier groans into his mouth as he wraps his hand around it, giving it a soft but firm stroke. Geralt rips his mouth away and he grips Jaskier’s hair, bending his head down to rasp into his ear, “You feel this?” He thrusts into the loose circle of Jaskier’s hand. “This is for you.”

Jaskier only moans deeper in response picking up his pace as he continues to jack Geralt’s cock. Geralt’s hips move involuntarily, thrusting and fucking Jaskier’s fist. The friction of it burns a bit, but there is enough dampness from the bath, and enough slickness from soap, that it still verges on bearable. Geralt grunts into Jaskier’s ear, and the other man only redoubles his effort.

“Fucking hell you have a huge cock,” Jaskier whispers breathily and Geralt is about to roll his eyes, but then Jaskier says, “I bet you could split me right open, fucking me with that thing.”

Geralt groans almost embarrassingly loudly imagining the feeling of the bard’s tight hole around his cock and fucks into Jaskier’s fist with a bit more fervor.

“Oh, you like that do you? The idea of fucking me?” Jaskier teases and Geralt feels the urge to fuck him and choke him at the same time.

“God, you’re an annoying little prick,” Geralt growls, but doesn’t stop his pace, just as Jaskier keeps up his.

“Do you think about how it would feel?” Jaskier asks, ignoring Geralt’s annoyance, “Being buried inside me, filling me up, over and over until I beg you to come just so my tight arsehole can have a break?”

“Fuck,” is all Geralt can say before he’s spilling over the bard’s hand. He rests his forehead on Jaskier’s shoulder as his hips slow in their spasms. 

“Is there a club for people that make Witchers come?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt must pull his head back up to glare at him. “Just saying, pretty rare finds we are. Conquerors of the Conquerors. That’s what we should be called.”

“Are you done?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier nods but then he brings his hand up to his mouth and licks off Geralt’s come. 

“Wow, I thought it would taste different, mutated come. Nope. Just come.”

Geralt can only stare as Jaskier continues to lick his hand clean. If he could get hard again this soon, this sight would have put him over the edge.

He can only say the first thing that comes to mind, which is: “If you ever write a song about this, I will fucking kill you.”

“Would you though?”


End file.
